Neosound
by Emasari
Summary: Lauren enjoys playing trombone, transfiguration and beating people with their shoes. It's almost sad when the others find out that they'll need her in order to save Harry. But not from evil wizards or deadly ghosts, but from himself. Future self, that is.


A/N: I don't own Harry Potter, that's JK's job! :P

* * *

When Lauren Redding awoke she was fat. Every morning when she awoke she was fat, and so far the fat didn't look like it was going to jump up and walk away any time soon.

But it was another morning and a new day. That was always something she could look forward to. Her first day at Hogwarts, too. Not her first year, mind, but her first year at _Hogwarts_. Previously she had gone to _Crimmies School of Mystical Music_. Of course the school didn't have a complete focus on the wizarding arts so much as it had on the noise-making arts and, then again, it was in Australia where the climate only had a temperature range of 'Bloody hell, it's hot' to 'Screw this, I'm moving to the US', but she did learn. Hell, she could play a trombone better than a fish could swim. Alright, so it wasn't exactly a soothing instrument, per se, but it was a _bass_. Basses held bands together. They were _important_.

Honestly, she didn't really want to go to Hogwarts, especially if they didn't play things like trombone. But, her parents did insist and no other school would take her in. Something about a shoe and stick, she couldn't quite bother remembering.

There was a knock at her door and a sickly thin woman scuttled in, hauling behind her a cart with Lauren's trunk loaded in. "Come on, get up. School time." She chided. Lauren rubbed her eyes and hauled herself out of bed, smiling. She accepted the trunk gratefully and hugged the woman. Gently, though, she didn't want to hurt her. Mothers were like that. "The train leaves in an hour," Her mother said, "You best be off. Be good, okay?" Lauren nodded and smiled again.

_Hogwarts..._

Sounded nice.

* * *

"I'm sorry."

Darkness hung like a blanket over the one candle that levitated just above their heads. In the shadows, a man shifted from foot to foot.

"Do we really-"

"She'll be arriving in a few weeks, Mister Dunston, and I expect you to be _very _welcoming." Another figure said, presumably female with her voice sharp and firm. The tone was clipped and even in the ruddy light Dunston could make out the deeply cut creases in the woman's forehead. "... And that means absolutely _no_ firecrackers." She added as an afterthought.

"None?"

"_None_."

"Minerva, I-"

"You can and will address me as Professor McGonagall, Mister Dunston. " She snapped, adjusting her spectacles. "And there are no excuses. You will treat her just like any other student, do I make myself clear?" Dunston bit his lips in thought.

"Er, crystal, Professor. But, er, you did read Tanglen's report on her, right?"

"Indeed I did."

"Do you _really_ think that Dumbledore would want for the school's academic success rate to lower _that _much-"

"A school is about education, Mister Dunston, not reputation. We are here to teach and you, as our new Defence Against the Dark Arts-" There was an audible gulp from Dunston's general direction, "-Are expected to do so." Dunston rubbed the stubble along his chin and kneaded his temples.

"But, er, well..." McGonagall sighed and strummed her fingers against the mouldy wooden table that separated them.

"Out with it, Mister Dunston, it's getting late."

"She turned her friend's _shoe_ into a _stick_, ma'am-"

"And?" Interrupted McGonagall, pursing her lips, "She has skills in transfiguration, it's not a bad thing, Mister Dunston-"

"-Turned a shoe into a stick and _beat him_ with it, ma'am." Dunston pressed, fiddling with a stray wooden splinter. McGonagall nodded and laced her fingers underneath her chin.

"According to her it was out of self defence."

"He's still unconscious, ma'am."

"Well-"

"It's been _three months, _ma'am. His parents are threatening to sue. I really don't want a homicidal student in my classes, ma'am." Dunston paused for a second while his brain took a moment to catch up with his mouth, "I hear it's bad for learning." He prompted but McGonagall's face was a mask of icy indifference.

"She will be attending Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Mister Dunston. And you, along with all the other teachers, will have to learn to live with it." She retrieved a hefty file from a handbag at her side and slid it across the table as far as the mould would allow. Dunston touched it experimentally, as if it was more likely to bite his hand off than be a, well, file.

Printed in bright red ink, the front said '_Lauren Redding'_. Next to the name was a neat little red sticker. Dunston tapped it gingerly.

"This," He said, "Uh, what does _this _mean?" McGonagall waved a hand through the air with a sigh.

"The school has adopted one of those colour coding methods of organisation. A muggle thing, if I'm not wrong."

"What's it code for?" Dunston ventured, looking down at it with disdain. McGonagall waved him off again.

"Nothing for you to worry about, Mister Dunston, now I do think we should leave." The way she said her words weren't so much an opinion but more of an order. A command. Dunston followed commands. Heaving up the file, he waddled to the front door and waited for McGonagall to pass him before squeezing on through.

She didn't so much as wave him goodbye before disappearing with a slight 'pop'. And with that he was alone. In the dark, surrounded by trees and with a little floating candle following him like a lost puppy. And the file.

_The file..._

Dunston flipped open to the first page, skimmed the first line and promptly shut it again with a huff. Tucking it under his arm, he began on the long journey back home.

_Lauren Redding, Lauren Redding, Lauren Redding..._

The candle flitted around the book with a sort of artificial curiosity and its dim light illuminated the first page which hung slightly out of place.

'_Keep out of reach of cats.' _The candle floated around the words for a while before deciding that it couldn't make heads or tails of them. It was only a candle, after all. And what good was a little light in a world of darkness?


End file.
